The Ancient Arts
by M C Pehrson
Summary: Story #41 It's time to peek at what Spock's daughter, T'Beth, was up to while he was in prison. At the end of "In the Interest of Peace", she headed off to Sydok with her newfound grandfather, Jondar Jo-Ree. That is where we now find her, about to delve deeply into one of Sydok's most ancient of arts. The result will change her life and figure into many future stories.


It was good to be home. T'Beth leaned from the upper-story window of her Sy grandfather's house, deeply inhaling the fresh morning air. How rich this world was, compared to the arid desert lands of Donari, where she had spent the last six weeks carrying out her diplomatic duties. In her absence, spring had arrived. Billowy clouds drifted lazily in the blue sky. A warm breeze stirred the flowering grasses that grew wild on the hillsides. From farther up the rise came the scent of the royal orchards blooming behind the old fortification wall. From here, she could actually see some of the taller branches hanging heavy with blossoms and Sy-bees.

Yes, she was glad to be home—and glad for the accumulated leave that would give her an opportunity to venture back behind those mysterious walls and resume her study of Sydok's Ancient Arts.

An enticing aroma of breakfast lured her from the window, and she went downstairs.

"Daughter," her grandfather said in greeting as she joined him at table. Reaching out with one robed arm, Jondar Jo-Ree briefly enclosed her hand with his own. The warmth of his affection carried through her like a tangible current.

How she had grown to love him and his people. Unlike Vulcans, whose emotions were always held in check, Sydoks freely shared their feelings—both verbally and in the empathic-touching that was an integral part of their private lives. The more she experienced this warm, filling contact, the more she realized how barren her early years had been. No wonder her childhood was so often miserable. No one, least of all her Vulcan-trained father, had been capable of giving her the deep emotional contact for which she hungered. Even humans, for all their displays of affection, had failed to meet her needs fully.

After breakfast she returned to her bedchamber and began a message to her father in prison. It was not a pleasant task. She could not bear the thought of him locked up at the old Luna colony, falsely convicted of a terrible crime. She had to choose each word very carefully. His circumstances were already so difficult; she did not want to blurt out anything foolish or hurtful. Yet all too often the thought came to her: _If only he had hired a Sy governess to care for me—someone who understood what it meant to be Sydok._ She had to remind herself of their meld back on Earth, of everything she had seen in her father's mind—his distrust of Sy ways, his hope that any incipient Sy tendencies would be overcome by her Vulcan and human genes, and his pain when it finally became clear that she had inherited her mother's sensual power. And by then, it was too late. The damage had already been done.

There was a time when she would have cursed him for that, but now she saw her own flaws too clearly to ever condemn Spock for his.

A strange rumbling drew her attention. Rising from her desk, she went to the window and searched the hillside. A gate in the palace wall stood open. From its stone portal emerged a fast-moving group of mounted riders. Bridle studs flashed in the yellow sunlight, manes and tails flowed, Sydoks crouched low over the backs of the galloping animals as they thundered along.

 _Horses?_ T'Beth hung out the unscreened window. Her heart pumped with excitement as the riders circled her way. The equestrian in the lead waved at her as he passed by, then headed the group down into the valley. She smiled and waved back. Honest-to-goodness horses from Earth! Arabians, by the look of them—chestnut, black, dappled gray. She watched until they disappeared from view, then went back to her desk.

Sitting down, she said to her father, "You're not going to believe what I just saw…"

oooo

T'Beth had taken to dressing in native Sy clothes when she was out of uniform. Wearing the flowing white pants and striped overshirt that comprised a student's garb, she arrived at the palace for her daily lesson with the court Master. At 320 seasons, Mu-Raka had long since left her youth behind, but the old Sy-jeera had a placid aura of authority that commanded respect. Sitting with Mu-Raka reminded T'Beth of sitting in the Sacred Grotto on Donari or in the Buddhist Temple on Fell Street in San Francisco. Through Mu-Raka, she hoped to advance her understanding of the Sy culture and of herself. But today Mu-Raka's comments on sexuality left her in a state of confusion.

Walking home slowly, she passed through gleaming white arches and entered the courtyard where ornate fountains flowed. There amid the garden statuary, she paused at her favorite sculpture. Its pointed ears made the Kelpin—or Sy fairy—look like a young Vulcan child in meditation.

All at once some inner prompting made her aware that she was no longer alone. Turning, she found a handsome young Sy studying her with his amber eyes. He was not so very unlike others of his kind, but something in the confident, almost careless set of his blond head, and the sun-browned perfection of his masculine features brought a jolt of recognition that widened T'Beth's eyes.

"My sir, excuse me!" she addressed the princeling Ap-Pakesh. To back away from royalty would be considered most insulting—a silent inference that he could not be trusted. Instead, T'Beth merely turned and started out of the courtyard.

"No, wait!" he called out in a fine, friendly voice.

Reluctantly she obeyed.

The royal princeling approached her. In the easy manner of his people, he reached out and touched the semi-Vulcanoid curve of her ear. A powerful sense of his delight flooded her, along with an intimation of something else that made her face go warm.

He smiled. "It's true—you really _are_ a Kelpin! I saw you watching at Jo-Ree's window as I rode by."

Somehow she nodded.

His strong hand touched the dark braid of hair that hung over her left shoulder. "What marvelous color! The sun sets it afire with sparks. Have you Vulcan blood?"

"And human," she said in a ridiculously unsteady voice.

"Sy too," he added, searching deep into her eyes. "I can sense the energy in you. I can sense your effort to control it."

T'Beth's blush deepened. What was the matter with her? She had grown up among the famous and powerful, and now her duties at the embassy brought her into frequent contact with political leaders. Prince Ba-Rokesh did not affect her this way. Why should his eldest son?

Ap-Pakesh lowered his hand. "I did not mean to make you uneasy. I can see by your eyes that you know who I am. Are you not Cris-Tabeth, the daughter of Spock who petitioned for peace at the Ildaran Summit?"

"Yes, my sir," she replied, feeling even more uneasy at the mention of her father's name. His imprisonment was common knowledge.

"Captain Spock had mutated as a result of Donari atrocities."

"Yes, but he recovered fully—with the willing assistance of a Donari healer from the Summit, I might add."

The princeling gazed at her steadily. "I was sorry to hear of his…legal difficulties."

T'Beth drew herself up. "The case is under appeal. He should never have been convicted. I assure you, sir, my father is no murderer."

Ap-Pakesh nodded in apparent sympathy. "Yes, most certainly. And I am sure he takes great pride in your accomplishments. Your work as a cultural attaché is doing much to stabilize the situation between our worlds." He gestured toward the sky, where Donari—or Mro, as the Sy people had traditionally called their sister planet—was making its slow midday ascent. In this part of Sydok, Donari never showed more than half its parched face before slipping back below the horizon.

"Mro—'the destroyer'. Perhaps someday your people will call it Amro—'the builder'."

He moved a bit closer. "I've heard stories of your healing on Donari, and of the mission you undertook there with your father. There are many questions I would like to ask you, Cris-Tabeth."

Heart pounding, she met the princeling's penetrating eyes and said, "And there are questions I would like to ask you. About those horses…"

His face lit with interest. "I recently had them imported from Earth. Are you fond of equines?"

"Very much. I used to enjoy riding when I was a schoolgirl."

"Then I shall bring you a mount in the morning. We will ride together and speak of Amro and equines. That is, if you are agreeable."

T'Beth's blood stirred at the thought of galloping atop one of those proud Arabians…with Ap-Pakesh at her side. Yes. There was no denying that he added to the excitement. Though some internal sense warned her against it, she said, "I am agreeable."

The princeling's warm, strong hand briefly caressed her cheek, then he was gone.

oooo

"Daughter…"

Jondar's gentle voice drew T'Beth from her thoughts. "Yes, Grandfather?"

Long silver hair curled about his caring face. "You seem very distracted tonight. Did the sight of the princeling's horses make you homesick for Earth?"

T'Beth glanced toward the palace lights shining above the great wall. These evenings on the veranda usually relaxed her—watching the stars appear, listening to the pleasant symphony of night sounds. Instead, she felt restless.

Drawing a breath, she said, "I met the First Princeling today."

"Ap-Pakesh."

"Yes." Her mouth felt dry. She drank a little water from the glass at her side. "He seems very…fun-loving."

"Yes," Grandfather said in a guarded tone. "Ap-Pakesh is 29 years old by Earth reckoning, but in some ways he is quite boyish. Prince Ba-Rokesh would like to see him take more of an interest in governing."

T'Beth tried hard to sound casual. "Is it true…that the princeling has three wives?"

Jondar stroked his beard. "Technically, he has but one wife. Like Vulcans, they were betrothed as young children. But as you know, Sy marriages are rarely monogamous. Law permits both men and women to take consorts."

Turning, she studied her grandfather's face. "You never did."

His eyes saddened and withdrew to some distant time. "No," he said softly. "The woman I took to wife was like no other. After she…and our children…died in the war, something inside me died with her."

T'Beth had not meant to stir up painful memories. Tears pricked her eyes as she rose and put her arms around his great shoulders. "Grandfather, I'm so sorry…

As he sighed and patted her hand, she could feel the honesty of his affection for her. He said, "You have given me new life. Who would have thought anything so wonderful could come out of those terrible times?"

She was reminded of a teaching that she had encountered in many different philosophies. "God could have chosen to create a universe where only good existed. Instead, he created a universe that allows for good to come out of evil."

oooo

T'Beth awoke at sunrise and was waiting on the veranda when Ap-Pakesh rode up, pulling a second mount behind him. She had not expected the princeling to be alone. Royals customarily traveled with protective escorts, though on this peaceful world there was little need for such a guard.

"Come, Cris-Tabeth," he said with a persuasive smile that showed white, even teeth, "the morning awaits."

Once more, some interior warning made T'Beth hold back. She remembered Grandfather's carefully worded comments about Ap-Pakesh, and she could not help but think of the austere, desolate land from which she had so recently returned. "It must have cost a great deal to ship in these Arabians," she said. "They are saddle horses, pleasure animals—a symbol of the Sy affluence that the Donaris have resented for centuries."

The princeling looked startled. "What strange notions you have! There is nothing wrong with pleasure."

"It becomes distasteful when flaunted in the face of poverty."

"The Mrovites impoverished themselves through their incessant warring. Look at Vulcan. Your father's planet is as dry and barren as Mro, yet the Vulcans have managed their resources wisely and live well."

"The Donaris consider the word 'Mrovite' a racial slur, as well they should. As for the Vulcans, there was a time when they, too, were torn by poverty and war. But like Donari, they came to see the advantages of peace."

The princeling's eyes twinkled with good humor. "Well then, Kelpin, let us wish the _Donaris_ all the peace and prosperity of Vulcan." His hand beckoned to her. "Come now."

T'Beth wavered with indecision. She looked at the fine-boned mare Ap-Pakesh had brought for her. The little Arabian's coat shone red in the sunlight as she danced about, impatient to be running. Her mane and tail shimmered like black silk. What was that Zen saying she learned while in China? _Live life as it lives itself…_

She came down from the veranda, and finding stirrups hidden beneath the rich saddle coverings, swung herself atop the horse. The princeling's hand brushed hers as he gave over the reins, then they were off. T'Beth followed his lead as they bent low and galloped over the gently rolling hills. Their horses were neck and neck as they approached a wooded thicket alongside a riverbank. At the tree line Ap-Pakesh suddenly pulled up. Flushed with excitement, T'Beth brought her horse to a stop and met the princeling's dancing eyes.

"This is wonderful!" she said impulsively.

Ap-Pakesh sobered. The dark centers of his amber eyes seemed to expand as he gazed at her. _"You_ are wonderful," he said quite seriously.

T'Beth experienced a dizzying wave of heat. Short of breath, she looked aside and was struggling to contain a wild tide of emotion when Ap-Pakesh dismounted and approached her. His large, warm hand settled over hers, and she began to ache with a sudden deep hunger, a hunger that only he could fill.

Reading her discomfort, he said, "I frighten you."

Her eyes averted, she forced a wan smile. "Sometimes…I frighten myself."

His hand roamed over her wrist as he murmured, "My sweet, beautiful Kelpin…"

Reaching up, he caught hold of her waist and drew her from the saddle. She found herself face to face with him. His handsome head bent closer, and his lips gently kissed an electrifying path over her ear.

"Lie with me," he whispered. "Here…now…under the trees."

T'Beth felt her body responding and struggled to clear her mind. She put her palms flat on his chest, forcing a little distance between them.

His eyes questioned her. "Why do you hesitate? I can feel you wanting me."

She could not deny it. There was a time when she would have welcomed any sensual encounter and given herself over to him with complete abandon. But she had changed. Lessons learned deep in a Donari cave had taught her to seek another, more lasting kind of satisfaction.

"You have a wife," she said, "and two consorts."

He smiled. "I am not bound only to them, Cris-Tabeth. Affections are shared freely in my world. Legal liaisons are only for the purpose of siring children."

Yes, she was aware of the stringent rules safeguarding the bloodlines of Sydok's royal heirs. "I find it rather insulting that I'm considered unfit to be even a princeling's consort."

He shrugged. "The law is the law. But there is no reason why we can't enjoy one another."

He unfastened his purple cape and tossed it away from his shoulders. T'Beth's eyes were drawn to the smooth, firm muscles of his chest. How simple it would be just to enter the thicket with him…but she was no longer a wayward teenager driven by every passing impulse. She was a Starfleet officer, a member of the diplomatic corps, a special attaché assigned to help maintain a tenuous peace between two ancient enemies. Even aside from any moral question, a dalliance with Sydok's First Princeling was not appropriate.

Gathering her resolve, she took up her horse's reins and climbed into the saddle.

oooo

Each day T'Beth left her grandfather's home early and traveled into the neighboring settlements so she would not have to see the palace wall and think about what lay beyond it. At night she awakened from tangled dreams in which the rhythm of galloping hoof beats led her back to the thicket, where Ap-Pakesh lay waiting for her. After one such dream she went to her window and saw a masculine figure standing in the starlight, looking her way. She shivered and drew back.

At breakfast Grandfather studied her with deep concern as she picked at her food. "You came in late last night," he observed. "There was another message from the Court Master, inquiring about your absence. You seemed so eager to resume your lessons. Have you had a change of heart?"

T'Beth stared at her plate. How could she tell him of her private struggle? How could she tell him of Ap-Pakesh, of how the princeling was pursuing her even into her dreams?

"I can see you are troubled," Jondar said kindly. "Perhaps, my dear, the Master can be of some assistance."

She nodded. "Yes, Grandfather, perhaps." But she dared not enter the palace in her present state. She knew without a doubt that _he_ would be there, watching and waiting for another opportunity to approach her. Old Mu-Raka's sharp eyes would see T'Beth's disquiet and perhaps even discern the reason for it. Here on Sydok romance was an elevated art and sexual acts took on a lofty significance. It was considered unhealthy to resist a mutual attraction placed there for your enjoyment—a hedonistic philosophy in deep conflict with the Donari spirituality that T'Beth practiced. She recalled the pain in the princeling's eyes when she denied him the pleasure they both desired. Even now, she still wanted him. Oh, how she longed to learn that most ancient of arts in the school of his royal bed.

With a clatter she set down her fork and said, "I'm going back to Donari—to the Grotto, for a few days of retreat."

Grandfather did not question her decision.

Now that her mind was made up, T'Beth reserved a seat on the next Sy-Don shuttle and threw together the few belongings she would need for her trip. As she turned to leave her bedchamber, her eyes lit on her Padd, and conscience pricked her. She had not added a single word to her father's message since that day when she first heard the hoof-beats. Even now, she seemed to hear them coming, louder and louder, like the thunder of an approaching storm.

A horse whinnied. She turned, her heart thudding hard against her ribs. Through the window she could see them—half a dozen men riding, their colorful capes lifted by the wind. Out in the lead was Ap-Pakesh.

T'Beth let out a sigh, grabbed her traveling bag, and headed for the door.

oooo

Time passed slowly, each hour dragging its way toward the next. Even here at the Grotto, T'Beth found it difficult to focus her thoughts and pray, impossible to achieve the serenity so necessary for meditation. Discouraged, she rose from the cool slab of rock where she had been sitting beside the Sacred Waters. Wearing a Donari robe, she waded barefoot into the pool and stood waist-deep, willing the icy water to extinguish the fire consuming her. With all her heart she prayed for deliverance, for peace. Her legs ached from the cold. Leaning down, she scooped a handful of water and reverently drank. As its coolness spread, a humbling thought occurred to her. _Is this what it had been like for all those others? For all the men and boys she had victimized as a teenager—using her Sy power to control them, taunt them, and even ruin them?_

Ashamed, T'Beth left the pool and walked past the prayerful figures of her Donari companions. Their orange reptilian eyes remained hidden behind silvery lids, oblivious to her tears.

oooo

Deep within the mountain, T'Beth awoke. Candlelight flickered over the stone walls of her little sleeping chamber. No windows here, yet as she stirred on her bed, a scent of green Sy hillsides and saddle leather seemed to mingle with the musty cavern odor.

Confused, she sat up—and found a tall, tanned figure watching her from the doorway.

An electric surge jolted her. "Ap-Pakesh!"

The princeling pressed a finger to his lips. Entering the chamber, he pulled the door-curtain shut behind him.

"I startled you," he said.

T'Beth left her bed and drew a robe over her sleepwear. "What are you doing here?" she demanded in a hushed voice. "It isn't safe for you to be on Donari. There are those who protest the new peace—those who would jump at the chance to murder a member of the Sy House."

"You are also hated by them," he pointed out, quite correctly.

He took a step toward her. With one hand he unfastened the buckle of his cape and let it fall to the floor. Candlelight shimmered over his smooth chest.

This is what she had come here to escape. How dare he invade the sacred solitude of the Grotto community? Reaching behind her, T'Beth clutched the solid edge of the bed platform. "My sir, you don't understand Donari customs—"

"You are not Donari," he interrupted.

As she met the amber fire in his eyes, she felt their energies starting to mingle. "This is a place of retreat. People come here to meditate…to pray..."

"I am the answer to your prayers," he said, boldly closing the space between them. Muscles rippled beneath his armbands as he reached for her. Feeling T'Beth tremble under his touch, he softly asked, "Afraid? Is my little Kelpin afraid of me?"

"Ap-Pakesh, no…" she entreated, but his warm, strong hands slipped under her robe and gripped her bare shoulders. Weak-kneed, she sank back against the bed cushion.

The princeling leaned over her and spoke into her ear, "You have never been with one of your own, never been with someone you couldn't control."

As she opened her mouth to object, he kissed her full on the lips. Her body responded with a jolt that sent flame licking through every nerve. With a pain deep in her heart, she began to push him away. But then her hands reached out and drew him closer.

oooo

Somewhere out on the desert, a new morning had dawned, but daylight never reached into the Grotto. Torches flickered as T'Beth entered the great cavern. A single Donari sat upon a prayer ledge, eyes closed, communing with the Divine Presence.

Quietly T'Beth approached the Sacred Waters. At the edge of the pool she slipped off her outer robe and plunged in. The icy shock stole her breath, but she dipped her head under and swam deep. _Isn't this what she had wanted? To punish her body? To cleanse her soul?_ She kept swimming until her bones ached and her flesh went numb and her strength began to fade. Then she staggered up onto the rocks and shivering hard, wrapped up in her robe.

Nearby, a shadow moved. Ap-Pakesh went down on one knee beside her.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" he wondered aloud.

Her teeth chattered in the stillness.

He held his hand out to her. "Come back to your room, I will warm you."

"No," she answered without looking at him.

Rising, he pulled her to her feet and tried to kiss her, but T'Beth's anger overrode the pleasure of his touch.

"No!" she hissed, shoving him away. She pointed at the Donari keeping its reverent vigil and whispered, "Would you scandalize these good People? This isn't Sydok. Here, sex is a very private matter. Surely you know that."

"I know only that I want you," he retorted. "What we shared was good. The fire was put there by the Creator—a holy gift, as holy as this cave you cherish." His voice caught. "Cris-Tabeth, _you_ are my sacred cave."

The sacrilegious words made her cringe. She could only hope and pray that the Donari on the ledge did not understand the Sy language. "Sit down," she said low, "and please listen."

Though he was not a man accustomed to taking orders, he did as she asked. T'Beth settled nearby. The Grotto's torchlight accentuated the strong, youthful planes of his face. She could still feel the warmth of that masculine skin, still feel the hot current of emotional energy that had spilled between them all through their lovemaking. The royal bed had proven to be most pleasurable and instructive, but in the end it had taught her more about herself than about the mating practices of Sydok.

Gathering her resolve, she said, "Ap-Pakesh, I will never lie with you again."

His eyes widened with disbelief. Obviously he had never been refused before—not like this, in the very afterglow of seduction.

"But why?" he demanded. "Is there another?"

"Yes," she had to admit, "there was another. For years I wanted only to lie with him, but now I've changed. Now I want something that neither of you can offer."

Ap-Pakesh bristled with a pride born from generations of royal blood. "There is nothing I cannot give you!"

"A monogamous relationship? A home? Children?"

"I can provide you with a mansion!"

"Would you be in it?" she asked. "Would you be mine alone?"

"I can sire you children…"

"Nameless children who could never claim you as their father."

He shrugged. "What does a name matter? As for monogamy, it is a strange, unnatural notion. Why burden oneself with such foolish limitations? The heart goes where it will."

"The Sy heart, perhaps, but I am more than Sy."

His face darkened. "It's those Vulcans—isn't it? They have done this to you! Vulcan society has crippled you with its stilted system of values. And humans are little better."

T'Beth rose to her feet, deliberately distancing herself from Ap-Pakesh so he would not know how deeply his words had wounded her. "Stilted system of values? You may be the First Princeling of Sydok, but you certainly have a lot to learn about diplomacy."

Anger flashed in his eyes. Rising, he confronted her. "You dare to correct me?"

Gathering her patience, she said, "Ap-Pakesh, someday you'll be Prince of Sydok. You'll have to deal with Vulcans, with humans, and with a lot of other races whose customs are very different from your own. Will you mock their beliefs the way you've mocked me? Or will you learn to respect them?"

His gaze turned cold and arrogant. "I have not mocked you. I only spoke the truth."

Could this be the same man who had held such sensual power over her? Suddenly she felt very little for him. Very little, that is, but shame—for in the depths of those childish eyes she saw herself as she had once been. Grasping, self-centered, determined to have her own way, no matter who got hurt.

"The truth," she said. "Yes, I see now that you've shown me the truth…and for that I thank you."

Turning from him, she went to pack her bags.

oooo

Mu-Raka sat nestled among her embroidered cushions like a wizened piece of orchard fruit. Though T'Beth was back at the old woman's feet, she knew now that there were aspects of Sy culture she would never adopt. Sydok had lost much of its glow, and today she was beset with distractions. Again and again her mind turned toward a deep worry…

Mu-Raka studied her as she bid T'Beth farewell until their next meeting. T'Beth politely embraced the old Sy-jeera and headed out to the courtyard. The day was clear and bright, but she did not linger among the fountains and statues that decorated the Prince's garden. She felt a twinge deep in her heart as she passed the Kelpin with his pointed ears, and kept moving at a steady pace. But she did not hurry. No, she was too proud for that.

She took a homeward path through the royal orchard. The ground was carpeted with fallen blossoms, and tender leaves sprouted from every branch. As she neared a gate in the great wall, she heard horses galloping. The sound grew into thunder and a pair of Arabians burst through the wide portal, neck and neck. Ap-Pakesh flew past, his cloak streaming in the wind, his eyes piercing and haughty as they raked her. The other rider was a Sy beauty—a mere girl, by the look of her, spanking young—but Sydok's age of consent was only ten.

T'Beth held back an angry protest as the riders tore through the orchard and disappeared from view. The hoof beats faded. She was starting to grow sick of that sound. The hot spring sunshine beat down on her dark hair, making her a little dizzy. With a sigh she turned and went on through the gate.

oooo

"Lieutenant? Lieutenant Lemoine!"

T'Beth started at the sound of her name and found her commanding officer standing directly in front of her desk. The man had never fully approved of her appointment. He seemed to think that she had somehow exploited her family connections to secure the position here at the embassy. And just now, his face was even stonier than usual.

"Sorry, sir," T'Beth said. "Did you want something?"

"Yes, I want something," he fairly snapped. "The Donari Tribal Protocol report. Why hasn't it been completed?"

With a pang she glanced at the half-finished report displayed on her computer screen. Her superior had every right to be annoyed. She should have completed it hours ago.

"I'm working on it, sir. You'll have it by day's end."

With a shake of his head, he left the small corner where she spent most of her time when she was not on some field assignment. As soon as he left, she rose and opened the window by her work station. The air that rushed in did little to cool her embarrassment. She had never been caught slacking before. No matter what, she had always managed to meet her deadlines, but lately it was becoming harder and harder to get her work done.

Her Starfleet uniform seemed confining, compared to the Sy clothes she wore off-duty. She felt hot, light-headed, and queasy. Removing her jacket, she hung it over the back of her chair before sitting down. Now a cold sweat was coming on, but she turned her attention to the report, trying hard not to worry. But the same old fear loomed up, larger than ever.

An odor of cooking food carried in from a Sy restaurant across the street. Suddenly T'Beth's stomach rebelled. Bolting into the lavatory, she threw up for the second time that day.

oooo

All week, T'Beth called in sick. Grandfather was becoming so concerned about her that he rearranged his schedule at Parliament and summoned his personal physician. Fearing the worst, she lay in her bed while the Sy healer ran a few quick tests. Then he asked Jondar to leave the room.

Panic seized her as she looked into the healer's eyes. She did not want to hear his diagnosis, because that would make it real. She would have to face up to the situation. There would be no more pretending, no more running away.

She felt her throat tightening. Then abruptly she began to cry.

The healer came up beside her and put his hand on her shoulder, radiating compassion. "There's no need for tears," he said kindly. "There's nothing at all wrong with you, my dear. You are merely growing a child."

oooo

Sitting at her bedroom desk, T'Beth stared at the message window on her Padd, pre-routed to her father at Starfleet's prison on Luna. She had removed the earlier mention of horses, and now could not seem to get past the salutation. Every time she started to speak, the words stuck in her throat.

How many uncaring eyes would censor this message before it finally reached prisoner M343B? How many of Warden Cho's assistants would laugh over it—and perhaps even bring it to Cho's personal attention?

Finally she said, "I'm sorry I haven't kept in touch, but I've been feeling a little under the weather. Grandfather's healer gave me some medication and…I'm better now." Tears welled in her eyes—they came so easily these days. She wiped at them with the back of her sleeve and drew a shaky breath. "The healer said…" Yet again, her voice broke.

This was going to be harder than telling Jondar—a lot harder. Father knew what she had been like in her wild years, bedding any man who stirred her interest, never giving a damn about anyone but herself. The minute she told him about her pregnancy, he would assume—quite logically—that she had returned to her old promiscuous ways. She would slip in his eyes, slip badly, and the thought of losing her father's hard-won approval made her stomach churn.

Easing back in her seat, she rested a hand on her flat, firm belly. Here she was, a 27-year-old officer with a promising future in interplanetary diplomacy. She did not want to be a single parent. She knew firsthand that a child needed more from a father than sturdy genes. A child needed a stable home—a secure, loving relationship with both parents—preferably living together as a family. And that was never going to happen.

Oh yes, she could think of a dozen excuses to reject this baby, all reasons that many people would find perfectly acceptable, reasons that had more to do with her own fears than any consideration of right and wrong. She had to remind herself that she was _not_ on her own. Grandfather was being supportive, and there was some One else who already had a plan for this child, some One who knew all about bringing good things out of the worst of circumstances.

With a sigh she went back to her Padd. "The healer said—"

No. She could not do it. She could not put this sort of news into a prison letter.

"Father," she began anew, "the healer said there was no reason to be concerned."

oooOOooo


End file.
